#But I love werewolf kreese😮‍💨

[zappedbyzabka]

talking about monsters, werewolf kreese....

Absolutely. GENIUS ideas. Big fuckin brain.

I’ve always loved werewolf Kreese because he’s the one that trained Red Riding Hood (Johnny) and all the little piggies.

Hairy chest and arms🥰

Papa wolf wearing granny’s apron

Are we talking about the kind of werewolf that just looks like a really big wolf after turning or are we talking about this? Because it changes things.

He’d never have a varsity jacket, that was a thing for the guys Betsy dated before him. He preferred something fit for meeting any broad’s dad in. Slacks with a clean, well-ironed shirt and shiny shoes will always do the trick in first impressions with nearly anyone. And when he still had his uniform, there were plenty of busty khaki wackies to keep him company.

But as he grew older, he started dressing like someone you could just guess would turn into a werewolf. Something like a lumberjack with concerningly pointy canines.

His sergeant could have turned him (if he wasn’t born a werewolf), and maybe that had a hand in his decision to let him fall into the pit of snakes.

Terry always knew his secret. Kreese was a bit vulnerable after everything. His girl’s death, the trauma of war, and being turned into a fucking werewolf—he had to tell someone and he knew Twig was too devoted to blabber.

He bought a whole field in the middle of nowhere with a load of sheep and goats for him to rip through on full moons, and John would wake up naked in their carnage. It wasn’t what he’d have liked to do with his free time, but he became absolutely ravenous and possessed, unable to stop himself.

Terry would be there by helicopter the next morning with towels and food a normal human would eat, his hair coated in pomade.

It was a jarring difference, being next to his elegant friend wearing pristine clothes when he’s bare and covered in blood, still has death stuck in his throat and the cracks of his teeth when Terry’s are white as the coke he snorts off his pinky after asking him what it felt like. Too excited to hear the gruesome details, but it was only Kreese’s second time turning and he didn’t remember anything but noise.

“It felt like eating something alive.” is what he decided to say.

“Sounds fun, I’m envious.”

He grew sick of being powerless and started doing the bullshit meditation that Terry was always trying to get to get him to do, fluffing up the act like a pillow, saying how it helps you ‘gain control’.

(”It’s the next thing to nirvana if you take just a pinch of peyote beforehand. Oh, captain, I was sitting on my floor straight-backed for five hours with zero boredom—”

“Just show me how to do this damn thing! It’s infuriating enough that I have to do this.”

Terry narrowed his eyes at him, hands on his hips. “Seon demands the admission of ignorance. Remember that, John. ”

He grabbed two cushions in placed them on the floor across from each other, sitting cross-legged on one “Now, shall we?”)

He didn’t fog up his mind with drugs, but he wrote down everything Twig taught him, calmed his mind, and accepted the fact that he didn’t know how to control the beast yet. He meditated every night, focused on every feeling, and explored every nook and cranny in his brain—though, a lot of things were figuratively covered up in tarps.

He found that one day, he had the steering wheel. His unwanted shifts were less frequent and he learns to change on command.

He’s never clear-headed as a furry monster, but he’s still aware enough in it. It’s no longer like taking a backseat in his body and watching himself do things.

(There is a possibility he could still lose control....COUGH)

I know he’d purposely shift and fuck around with teenagers trying to play hooky/canoodling in the woods by chasing them to their cars. Make everyone think they have a wolf problem in LA.

Probably would do it to the Cobras and see how they’d react in the face of danger. (real nice, Kreese.)

Does he tear people he hates limb from limb sometimes? Who knows. He definitely ponders it.

Or yknow, maybe he was just born as one and this universe has all sorts of creatures, ûwhich is an au I ADORE. Maybe he was always comfortable as a shifter and has total power over it. He’s a weapon in two forms, deadlier than a Cobra: that doesn’t sound like a problem to him.

He has always had that carpet on his chest and a viciousness inside so.

(And let me not get into him having ruts and turning pussy whipped—which includes ass. Just getting absolutely parched for it and humping against furniture, making guttural sounds like an animal and fucking his hand like he’s trying to give himself friction burn. Poor guy has no good place to pop a knot—or does he ?)